


Life

by Smauglicious



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Old Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 21:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11044734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smauglicious/pseuds/Smauglicious
Summary: Sherlock's life in summary, and how John entered his life.





	Life

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as my first Sherlock fanfic, it's an old one. But I decided to just post it.

At age 7,

bright, smart, a future ahead of him. Naughty, but that was to be expected. A flop of messy curls and toothy smiles and cuddles at night. Running around with Myc, playing detectives and pirates. Waving around his sword with Redbeard running behind him, laughing and squealing when Myc catches him and hugs him tight.

At age 13,

he doesn't understand, he just wanted to tell the teacher that what was said was wrong, it was the truth. It wasn't his fault that everyone else couldn't understand what he was saying, he was glad to have shared his knowledge. But no, punches and kicks and sneers was thrown his way. He was an outcast, he was despised. And a downward spiral of self-pity ensues.

At age 17,

despair is all he knows. Everyone treats him like dirt, why was this happening to him? He was drowning in melancholy and drugs was his only way out. Heroin, cocaine, and a way out to nothingness. Overdoses were like a monthly thing and guess what? He just didn't care, couldn't care because if he did care, everything would crash and burn and there would be no more Sherlock.

At age 21,

he simply doesn't care anymore. Normal beings were stupid and dump and of course they wouldn't be able to understand him. And no wonder he was not able to fit in, yes of course, he was a high functioning sociopath for God's sake, he had no feelings, right. Insults thrown his way would result in a bite from him viciously, it was their fault. And amidst all this, drugs would heighten his senses, keep in touch with his mind palace and his detective abilities.

At age 29,

everything was fine, the same as always and now he had a companion, Dr Watson. Grumpy, limping, and in every sense, a very normal man with a normal brain. But John was tolerable, like Lestrade and Molly. And he had grown accustomed to him being there, when dear John complimented him, Sherlock developed quite a shy liking for him. Nobody, and really nobody, had ever told him that his intellectual was something to be celebrated instead of despised. And just a little, Sherlock grew better.

At age 31,

Sherlock realised with a slap in the face and a punch in the stomach that John was his everything. That John was what he needed in life, was his drug and those two years without John was pure hell and he needed John. And John didn't want him anymore, he would do anything to protect John and he regretted his decisions and regretted his life. John had helped him come out of his shell but John was leaving.

At age 40,

Sherlock is back with John. The feeling of warmth and joy and the dream like feeling made Sherlock go mad, and Sherlock kissed John for the first time. Definitely, with sincerity and love and everything that he had ever wanted to tell John. So everything was perfect and John and Sherlock was tied with a red string of fate. Sherlock had never felt so complete, so happy that he realized this must be what had been missing all those years. A man named John Watson.

At age 62,

Sherlock was not the man he once was, albeit mean and cranky at times, Sherlock had lost all of his first hesitancy towards the human race that betrayed him. He had learnt to appreciate life as it is and be free of the burdens that he had carried on his back for all those years, the sneers, the torture and the constant lingering of a dark past.

At age 78,

Sherlock lies in his bed alone, breathing slowly, in and out. He was the last one alive. Mrs Hudson had died 30 years ago, Lestrade 8, Mycroft 5, Molly 4, and John. John had passed away yesterday. And Sherlock was tired, he was old and brittle and his brain didn't work as it was years ago. Sherlock's brain is filled with John and a dull ache in his heart, of John's smile and his laughter and face. The image of John standing in the kitchen, swaying his hips and whistling one of the outdated songs that he loves, making tea for him. The way he smooths Sherlock's curls soothingly and whispers to him lovingly. The way he smiles sleepily. And everything around him has so much John in him and it hurt so much.

At age 79,

Sherlock closes his eyes and rests. Never to be awaken and he was happy that he had led a life worth told. And he was aching to meet the love of his life with a red string of fate again.


End file.
